Old Wang still failed to grab a ticket home this year. He stared at the computer screen, the distortion of the 12306 verification code was comparable to a Picasso painting. His fingers mechanically clicked the mouse, refreshing, refreshing, and refreshing again. The words "0 remaining tickets" on the screen were like a cold tombstone, declaring his defeat.
On the wall hung a huge ink painting, depicting a pair of mandarin ducks, but rendered with sharp, knife-like strokes, full of a sense of severance. This was the "Underground Divorce Company," a mysterious establishment hidden in an old office building in the city center.
After retiring, Old Li's most important daily task was feeding the koi at Guanyin Bridge. Those brightly colored creatures were not just fish to him; they were symbols of good fortune in his old age. He firmly believed that as long as he fed them on time every day, they would bring him health, longevity, and even a lottery win.
Old Wang squatted by the riverbank, smoking one cigarette after another. At his feet were more than thirty bulging woven bags, filled with dead koi carp. These fellows, once swimming happily in the pond, were now a heavy burden.
Old Li set up a stall selling goldfish at Guanyin Bridge. He watched as the ornamental pond under the bridge became a graveyard for koi. Red, white, black, crammed into more than thirty woven bags, they looked just like the harvested rice in autumn.